


Chuck vs. the Cover Boyfriend

by dracofiend



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:19:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6271243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracofiend/pseuds/dracofiend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck settles in to having a cover boyfriend (and a cover girlfriend, at the same time).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chuck vs. the Cover Boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

> A follow-up to Infiltration and Inducement of Enemy Personnel, because I couldn’t stop.

“Hey Chuck!” Morgan hopped up onto the Nerd Herd desk next to Chuck’s computer monitor. “Me. You. Modern Warfare 3. Two pounds of tiny sizzling crustaceans. To- _night._ ”

“Goooood Morgan,” Chuck replied, not taking his eyes off the HerdHelp email inbox he was clicking through. Complaint about Jeff and Lester; complaint about Jeff and Lester; complaint about Jeff and Lester. Ugh, he was going to have to talk to them again about sticking to the script during installs. In Jeff’s case, it was an actual script that Chuck had printed out on flash cards and made into a little book, which Jeff was supposed to keep in his shirt pocket at all times. 

“As romantic as that sounds, I’m afraid I can’t do it tonight – but definitely tomorrow, okay buddy?” Chuck looked over at his friend with a please-forgive-me smile. Morgan scrunched his face into the no-god-why-meeeeeee expression, then opened his eyes and leaned toward Chuck.

“Hot date with Sarah?” Morgan asked in a lowered voice. “Oh, I totally get it. Hey, shrimp’s not the only source of sizzle in your life these days, right man?”

“Heh heh heh,” Chuck pretend-laughed. “No sir, it is not.” He hadn’t told Morgan yet about his new cover with Casey – not that he would tell Morgan it was a _cover_ , obviously, but he hadn’t told Morgan about his new – relationship – with Casey. It was completely uncharted territory. In twenty years of conversations about everything, from the video game character you’d most want to bring to life to hypothetical meals in space to the best method for surviving global pandemics, suddenly deciding to start dating a guy had just never come up. Chuck frowned to himself, then looked at Morgan. “Hey, uh, Morgan. There’s something I want to talk to you about. Later. When we’ve clocked out.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, of course,” Morgan chattered back. Then he looked again at Chuck, noticing Chuck’s semi-constipated expression. “It’s serious, isn’t it?” He peered more closely into Chuck’s eyes. “Oh my god – it’s Sarah isn’t it? She’s pregnant.” 

“Wha—no!” Chuck snapped out of it immediately.

“We’re gonna have a _baby._ ” Morgan craned his head skyward and gripped Chuck by the upper arms. “Oh my god. What are we going to do, we have no _idea_ how to deal with a baby—”

“No! Morgan! We are _not_ having a baby!” Chuck hissed.

“What?” came the drawling voice of morning-Jeff. “Chuck’s having a baby?” Chuck and Morgan swiveled to see the peaks of morning-Jeff’s hair emerge from one of the storage spaces behind the desk. 

“Wh—have you been there the whole time??” Chuck demanded. The light snoring usually gave him away.

Morning-Jeff’s bleary eyes slowly focused on Chuck’s face. “I think so. What time is it?”

“It’s ten!” Chuck said.

“Then no. We went to Bennigan’s earlier.”

“It’s ten in the morning!”

“Oh.” Jeff went silent for a moment and seemed to doze off with his eyes still half-open at Chuck. “Then yes.” 

“There you are!” cried Lester, hands on his hips as he strode into view. “Where have you been, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! We have to get the cameras ready for—” He broke off, eyes roving suspiciously over to Chuck and Morgan. “For the…new display…” Chuck rolled his eyes. He was definitely going to have to talk to Jeff and Lester again, soon. 

“Chuck’s having a baby,” Jeff said. “With Morgan.”

“NO!” Chuck shouted. “Okay, you guys! No one is having a baby! Okay Morgan? That is not what I was going to tell you.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “Kind of the opposite, actually.” He shook his head. “But later, all right? Lay. Ter.” He clapped Morgan on the shoulder, who passed a hand over his forehead. 

“Phew! Dodged a bullet there, Chuck,” Morgan said, relieved. “Not that – not that it would be a bad thing, if you know, we _were_ \--”

“But we’re not!” Chuck sing-songed. “So you can stop saying it!” He pushed Morgan off the desk. “I’ll talk to you later, kay?” Morgan hopped away with a wave. “And as for the two of you,” he pointed to Jeff and Lester, “We’re going to need to have another conversation about keeping your hands to yourselves when you’re doing installs and saying only what we agreed you could say, yes Lester, that does include pets. And about that camera—”

“Excuse me,” came a voice from somewhere behind Chuck. “Do you carry motion sensor lights?”

Morgan’s voice replied, “Yes we do sir, come right this way.” 

Chuck barely heard it over his flash.

_Oh,_ he thought to himself when it was over. _Oh no._ He gulped and hurried out of the Nerd Herd horseshoe, ignoring Jeff and Lester’s looks, to follow after Morgan, just long enough to get a glimpse of the customer through metal shelving and floor lamps. Then he turned around and walked as fast as he could without looking crazy to find Casey. 

“Casey, Casey,” he muttered, breathing rapidly as he hit the center walkway. “Where are you.” He glanced down all the aisles, passing each in quick succession. “Come on, Casey,” he muttered, pacing to the back of the store, his head turning left and right and left and right down every row. “Where—oomf!”

“Watch it,” growled Casey, shoving Chuck back. 

“Oh good,” Chuck exhaled, grabbing at Casey’s giant shoulders. “Listen, I just flashed.” Casey’s eyes bulged out and his jaw clenched. “Back in lighting and landscaping. Tall guy, tall, blue baseball cap, gray sweater, dark jeans. He looks normal but he’s actually a Finnish hitman or something, Kalevi Koskinen. I saw,” Chuck gulped, “I saw lots of bodies, lots and lots of bodies. He works for the Østergaard crime family, not sure what he’s doing here besides getting motion sensor lights.” 

Casey snorted air out of his nose and gave a curt nod, then leaped into action. Chuck sighed out the huge breath he’d been holding in while he gave Casey the heads-up, and tried not to collapse. He stayed behind the high shelves of printers and printer paper, and cautiously peeked over the edge, toward where he thought the professional killers in the store should be gathering about now. He watched Casey approach the lighting aisle, then saw that Koskinen was already at the checkout. Casey realized the same thing a moment later, and sauntered casually over toward the register where Koskinen was paying. Chuck watched Casey straighten the cheese balls on a nearby display and observe Koskinen without making contact. When Koskinen left the store, Casey immediately walked swiftly back to where Chuck stood behind the printers.

“Okay, I’m going to pull the surveillance footage,” he said briskly. “Then we need to get you some frozen yog—”

“You _need_ to get yourself busy fixing computers!” barked Big Mike, appearing from nowhere with a half-eaten bear claw in his hand. “And you! John!” Casey’s neck veins bulged slightly, but he stayed quiet as Big Mike waved his donut, dropping crumbs. “The new shipment just arrived – those big screen TV’s ain’t gonna unload themselves. Now get back there, both of you! Chop chop!”

Chuck glanced at Casey, who looked like he was using the force to suffocate their boss. “Yeah, sure,” Chuck said quickly, putting a hand on Casey’s back and giving him a push. Casey didn’t budge. “We’re on top of it – right buddy?” He gave Casey another hard push. Casey’s lips twitched, revealing an edge of teeth, then he muttered a murderous _Right_ and let Chuck move him along. 

Alone in the storage cage, Casey punched the buttons on his phone with more vig or than necessary. “Goddamn BuyMore,” Casey growled. “Yeah, Walker,” he said into the phone as Chuck looked on and began removing the panel from one of the PC towers on the desk. “I got fifty big screens to unload so I can’t leave but Chuck flashed. Yeah, he’s fine,” Casey said impatiently. “Guy’s name is Kalevi Koskinen. Works for the Østergaard family. Find out what he’s here for and notify Beckman. We’ll meet you there in an hour. Over and out.”

Casey hung up and jammed the phone into his pocket. “You stay here – do not leave the cage. We don’t know if Koskinen’s here because of you. I’ll be bringing the goddamn televisions in—” He stopped abruptly. Chuck followed his gaze to the far wall. 

“What the hell,” Casey muttered under his breath as he strode over to it – and reached up to rip the ventilation screen clean away. He plucked something from out of the vent and held it up. 

“Is that—” Chuck began.

“So the herring-sucking bastard thinks he can get the jump on us, huh?” Casey gritted out, crushing his fist closed over the hidden camera. 

“How did that get in—” Chuck tried again.

“I sweep this area five times a day,” Casey said, dropping the little black box and giving it a hard stomp with his foot. “He must’ve planted this recently, just before making his initial approach. We can get him when he comes back for it.” The camera crunched loudly under his boot. 

“Whoa, HEY!” Lester came running in and stopped in a crouch at the disfigured bits of metal and plastic on the ground. “Hey hey hey! What are you doing, man? Jeff! JEEEEEFFF!”

On cue, Jeff ambled in, with frowsy eyes. They widened and cleared instantly, though, when Jeff saw the shards in Lester’s hands.

“What happened?” Jeff whispered. 

“This monster!” Lester shrieked. “This _monster_ ,” he repeated, clearing his throat, “has just destroyed our best work! The ultimate collection of upskirts and cleavage – see-through blouses and nip slips – on the hottest women to ever walk through these doors! It was all here – it was all here…” Lester’s voice trailed away and his eyes filled with tears. 

“Why?” Jeff whispered. He looked down at some of the little black pieces that Lester had placed in his open palms. “Why’d you do it?” He looked up at Casey’s apopletic face. “We would’ve shared it with you; you only had to ask.”

“Jeff!” snapped Lester. “What he means is, this didn’t belong to us. It _belonged_ to the world, John! And you RUINED it!” His voice rose again to a shriek.

Chuck saw Casey start to twist his neck to the right, very slowly; he saw Casey’s hands bunch into giant fists filled with knuckles. He rushed forward and put a hand on Casey’s chest – his tight, bulging chest. “Okay, okay, let’s all just calm down here,” Chuck said quickly. “Everyone take a breath”—Casey’s chest heaved, once, and Chuck felt a growl vibrating beneath his hand—“or maybe just a step back, good, good.” Jeff and Lester had moved out of the imminent-death-by-asphyxiation-at-Casey’s-bare-hands zone. “Now, Jeff, Lester. You know that’s against the rules, Big Mike said another harassment claim and—”

“WE are artistes!” Lester cried. “WE cannot be bound by the strictures that apply to ordinary people, people like you, drones who go about their soulless, joyless, colorless—”

“Cleavage-less,” put in Jeff.

“—lives without appreciating the splendor, the accidental exposures all around you!” finished Lester. “You need to fix this!” He jabbed in the air at Casey. 

“ _Oh,_ ” Casey said, breathing it out with his smiling psycho face on. “I’m going to fix it all right,” he said lowly, grinning with that crazy light in his eyes that Chuck knew so well. He cracked his neck to the left and right. “ _Permanently._ ”

“Way-way-way-wait!” Chuck called out, pressing his palm down on Casey’s chest, which did nothing to impede his advancement toward Jeff and Lester. Casey bumped roughly against Chuck, and turned his glare from the voyeurs to Chuck. “Just wait a minute Casey.” He cleared his throat and rounded his eyes big, waggling his eyebrows a tiny fraction. Casey’s glare deepened as he frowned. Chuck tilted his head back to Jeff and Lester behind him, then said, “Uhhhhh, I think – I think it’s time we let Jeff and Lester in on our little secret.” Chuck clenched his teeth, then pasted on a smile at Casey. Casey’s forehead rose up, then he rolled his eyes with a silent _ugh._ Chuck whipped his head around. Jeff and Lester were looking at him, more attentively now. Chuck fake-laughed through his forced smile. 

“Ya see,” Chuck started. He cleared his throat again. “This may be hard to believe, but – but the reason John here smashed your hidden camera into tiny little pieces is that, uh, welllll…” Chuck’s voice rose by a few pitches at the end and he couldn’t go on. Then he gasped as a big hand – a big, masculine hand – suddenly grabbed his right butt cheek in a _very_ firm hold.

“What he’s trying to say is that you caught him checking out my hard drive,” Casey said, in that kind of leering, kind of sarcastic tone that Chuck could never decipher. “He was too busy unzipping my files to see we were being watched—”

“So it’s a good thing John’s so _paranoid_ about these things,” Chuck gritted out, turning to look back at Casey to mouth an extremely vehement _what the hell?!?_

Casey simply lifted the edge of mouth and huffed a laugh in Chuck’s face. “You’re not _that_ good at handling my joystick yet, sweetheart, but don’t worry, you’ll learn.”

Chuck could only narrow his eyes and stare, speechless, at him.

“Wait, so,” Lester said, waving his hands, “we’re supposed to believe that _you,_ Chuck Bartowski, are hitting _that?_ ”

“Ahhhhhh, yeeees?” Chuck choked out.

“Not exactly,” Casey said breezily. “I’m the one plugging into his USB port – slot barely fits, but we make it work, don’t we?” He winked at Chuck, then squeezed his ass again, causing Chuck to startle, right into Casey’s broad chest. Chuck opened his mouth, could not for the life of him summon any vocal ability, and merely turned back to Jeff and Lester with a huge, teeth-filled, super-fake smile. 

“Oh, well that makes – yeah, of course,” Lester nodded, folding his arms with a laugh. “Now I understand why you’re always looking for him, I mean it’s not like he’s part of the Nerd Herd—”

“It’s because they’re boink buddies,” Jeff put in.

Chuck wrinkled his nose, then quickly straightened his face. “Yeeees. Yes we are. Heh.” He glanced over to Casey, who simply smirked at him. “And that’s why we’re often in the home theater room, with the curtains shut – so when you see us go into the home theater room, and the curtains are shut—”

“Yeah, you guys like to run in there in a real big hurry,” Jeff said as Lester nodded. “Like every day. Sometimes two or three times.”

Chuck swallowed. “Well. Well what can I say, huh? Duty calls,” he added hastily as he felt Casey’s fingers dig painfully into his hip. The pincers eased slightly, and Chuck went on, “When the curtains are shut, do not go in, okay? Do not. Because we’re, uh, we’re trying to keep this quiet, you know, hush hush, because uh, because well technically under BuyMore corporate policy team members aren’t supposed to date—”

“Whoa, you’re DATING??” shouted Lester. “DATING?? Whoa, whoa, wow!” He stuck his knuckles into his mouth and bit down, looking excitedly at Jeff as Chuck made violent shushing noises. 

“What did I just say?” Chuck hissed. “Keep it down, okay? We don’t want anyone to know!”

“No no, of course not, but Chuck! I can understand a little exploratory mano a mano action – I mean we’ve all been wondering what kind of missile’s mounted under there, but you’re actually in a _relationship_ with the Incredible Hulk?”

“Uh, first I don’t think that’s what mano a mano means, and second, he’s standing right here, so I’d keep my tone respectful, and third, were you even listening??” Chuck frowned, shifting his weight to try to keep Casey back, as Casey was starting to growl and creep forward again. “Okay, you know what, never mind, I can’t do this anymore – think what you want, the point is, you can’t tell anyone what we just told you, kay? And that’s why we have to take care of those too,” he added as Casey swiped the remnants of Lester’s hidden camera from Jeff’s unresponsive hands. “To make sure this does not go beyond these four walls. All right?”

Lester, bright-eyed, nodded solemnly, and Jeff, considerably less bright-eyed, followed suit. 

“Now scram before I rip your faces off,” Casey growled abruptly, thrusting his head out like a turtle. Lester meeped and ran, and Jeff toddled after him. 

Chuck sagged and blew air out of his mouth. “Great. Now the whole world’s going to know. Ugh. I better go tell Morgan before he finds out from the pizza guy across the street. I am so tired of having this conversation with everyone in my life.” 

Casey grunted in affirmation. 

“I think it’s safe to take your hand off my ass now,” Chuck sighed, rubbing his face.

Casey grunted again, amused this time, and did. 

*** 

"Our agents in the region have picked up no intel on recent Østergaard activities involving the U.S., but we have evidence indicating that Koskinen has been running surveillance on Sergey Petrov, the consul general of the Russian Federation's embassy in Los Angeles," General Beckman told them. Sarah heard the faint growl beside her, and saw Chuck nudge Casey. "Easy buddy," Chuck murmured under his breath, "they might be the good guys this time." Sarah watched as Casey's eyes flared, but he curbed his response, with effort, as the general briefed them. She couldn't help but notice that Casey didn't seem to mind Chuck's shoulder touching his.

The images of Koskinen and Sergey Petrov on the monitor vanished to reveal the general. "We don’t know what Koskinen has planned, but given his history, I want you to find out. It may be a personal vendetta, or it might be something more – the agency doesn’t want to take any chances in light of the current situation."

“What’s the current situation? I thought the Cold War was over?” Chuck asked, earning a level stare from Beckman. “Oooo-kay, maybe it’s not,” Chuck muttered, casting his eyes down as Casey glared hard at him. Sarah gave him a sympathetic glance – she and Casey understood it was above their paygrades to even inquire, but Chuck was no spy. He was just curious. 

“The embassy is hosting a gala tomorrow night,” Beckman resumed. “We expect Koskinen will be there, so Agent Walker, you and Mr. Bartowski will attend as a couple. Agent Casey, you will be positioned inside as a member of the catering team. Good luck.” She ended the call; the screen went to NSA-blue.

“What’s up, catering!” Chuck grinned, clasping Casey’s shoulder. “That’s gotta be a step up from bartending, right? You get to move around, mingle, maybe have an hors d’oeurve or two…”

Sarah watched Casey give a low growl; he didn’t shrug Chuck off, or threaten to tear off his hand. “Hey you know what?” Chuck said excitedly. “Maybe you should whip up a batch of those cheesy puff things and circulate those at the party – they were ah-mazing. No assassin in the world could resist those!” 

Casey grunted and moved toward the weapons cage. “They’re called gougères, you philistine. And I’m bringing them over tonight.” 

Sarah frowned – tonight? She was planning on stopping by to see Chuck tonight – it had been awhile since their last date. Chuck’s social calendar had become a lot more crowded ever since the new cover, and Sarah wanted him to have time for his real friends and family, too. It seemed like maybe Casey wasn’t giving Chuck enough space. She waved bye to Chuck as he headed up the stairs to go back to the BuyMore. He paused at the top. “Buddy, you coming?”

Sarah looked up at him. “I need to talk to Casey about tomorrow night – logistics. You go ahead.” 

“Okey dokey!” Chuck replied, and with a salute and a smile, left Castle. 

Sarah turned around. Casey had come back to the conference table with an assortment of guns and cleaning equipment. She approached, thinking quickly about the best way to begin. She suspected Casey was getting…more comfortable with Chuck. It was inevitable, she thought. Because it was Chuck. She could already feel herself caring more than she wanted to, but at least she recognized that fact and could acknowledge it, even if only to herself, in her own room, on her own time, when no one was watching. She doubted Casey could do the same. Casey’s inability to introspect and admit to his own feelings could make maintaining both their covers difficult – but his dedication to his mission, to his orders, above anything else, would save them. All she needed to do was tap into the right vein of motivation; get him into the right frame of mind to see things her way. 

“Hey, um, Casey?” she started, making her tone tentative. She leaned against a chair, tilting her hip so she slumped slightly to one side. “I think we should talk about our cover relationships with Chuck.”

Casey smirked as he disassembled a Desert Eagle. “What’s the matter, Walker – can’t stand a little competition?” He kept his eyes on the gun as Sarah pushed the chair out and sat down.

“It’s not a competition,” she answered, shaking her head. “I just want to make sure each of our covers is getting its fair share of time with Chuck, and that Chuck’s getting enough time with his friends and family as well.”

Casey grunted. He worked a shammy over the pieces in his hand. “Newsflash. Ever since he got that damned computer lodged in his brain, we _are_ his friends and family, as far as the U.S. government is concerned.”

“Well, he wasn’t trained to work for the government,” Sarah said. She understood what Casey was saying – she also wanted to protect Chuck, and sometimes it was hard, even for her, not to view people like Ellie and Devon and Morgan as nothing more than vulnerabilities, ways for enemies to compromise their asset. “I’m just saying that we can help him feel more in control, emotionally”—Casey’s expression turned to disgust—“if we make sure he has a healthy balance of all his relationships”—Casey’s disgust turned vocal—“both cover and real.”

Sarah waited while Casey clicked the pieces of his gun back together, gave it a final once-over with the cloth, and reached for his SIG. “You know what,” Casey finally said, tauntingly. “I think your skirt’s in a twist because you underestimated my skill with inducement, and now Bartowski’s running straight to me, leaving you out in the cold. Doesn’t feel so good, does it?” He finally raised his eyes to Sarah’s, his lip curled up at the side. “But hey, you want to show him a good time tonight, be my guest. Here’s some advice,” Casey smirked. “Don’t be too gentle, huh? He likes it rough.”

Sarah returned his snicker with a serene smile. She got up and went to the stairs, to go slice some pineapple and refresh the rainbow krispies. Now she knew. Casey was hooked. 

***

Casey scanned the kitchen, then muttered to his wrist, “All clear here. Do you have a visual on Koskinen?”

Walker came through his earpiece. “Not yet, but we see Petrov; he’s on the east side of the room, by the ice sculpture. Chuck’s heading over there now.”

“Roger that.” Casey pivoted as the head caterer shouted to him. “Hey! New guy! I need you to stop standing around and get these out!” Casey bit back his snarl and nodded stiffly, going over to hoist the platter from the service window. He pushed through the door and assessed his surroundings. The reception hall was teeming now with potential operatives, assassins, and worst of all, Russians. Why did it always have to be Russians? He clenched his jaw, adjusted the linen cloth over his arm, and moved toward where Bartowski stood, next to a hideous bear-shaped block of ice. 

“Gentlemen,” Casey said, inclining his head.

“—and that’s how I ended up in the software biz, heh heh,” Chuck was saying to Petrov and two other unidentified Ruskis. “Ooh, those look delish, think I’m gonna have me one of them!” Chuck said, reaching toward Casey’s platter. “What are they?”

“Pâté en croute,” Casey replied smoothly, peeling a napkin from the stack in his palm one-handed for Chuck. He offered the platter to the others, swiftly sizing them up. Petrov was a scumbag – the number of medals pinned to his chest confirmed it – and the others were armed. His thugs. Casey looked back at Chuck in time to see Chuck make a face and scrub the napkin hard over his mouth. “Oh, yeah,” Chuck said, coughing and clearing his throat. “Those are – you guys should really try that.” He gave Casey a look. “Hey uh, when are the tiny burgers coming out?”

Casey’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but his tone was deferential as he said, “Right away, sir, I’ll be right back.” He glided away into the crowd and headed to Walker’s last known location, near the main entrance where Koskinen might show. Not seeing her, he started making his way back to the kitchen. After a few unscheduled stops to serve snacks to Soviet pigs – the things he did for his country! – Casey finally made it inside. He slid his half-empty tray onto a rack and leaned into the service window. “Sliders!” he called out, then raised his watch to his lips. “Walker, give me some good news.”

After a moment, Walker’s voice responded. “I haven’t seen Koskinen; I’m checking the other entrances now. Maybe he was tipped off.”

Dammit. The longer it took to find this sonofabitch Socialist, the longer Casey would have to make nice to these freedom-hating bastards and feed their fat Commie faces. He growled, and snatched up the platter of miniature cheeseburgers that appeared at his elbow. Casey pushed through the kitchen door again, and went swiftly out into the hall.

“Hey, uh, guys, guys?” Chuck’s voice sounded in Casey’s ear, shaken. “I don’t think Koskinen was tipped off.”

“What? How do you know?” snapped Casey, scanning the room for suspicious movement.

“Because he’s here and he brought friends and they took out Petrov’s bodyguards and now he’s forcing Petrov to leave with him at gunpoint!” Chuck answered very rapidly through increasingly clenched teeth.

“Stay right where you are—”

“Don’t you move—”

“There’s no time, we might lose them—”

“No, Chuck—”

“You keep your nerd ass grounded or prepare to meet Jesus—”

“Okay, they’re going down a hall, I think we’re near the bathrooms,” whispered Chuck, as Casey, who had shoved his platter of mini-burgers onto the nearest black sateen vested loser, darted through the crowd, his weapon drawn and held low near his hip. He steamrolled his way to the hall that led to the facilities. “They’re heading upstairs,” came Chuck’s voice.

“Chuck, do NOT go up there,” commanded Walker. “Casey, what’s your 20?”

“Almost there,” Casey growled, sprinting down the dimly lit hallway. He turned a corner and saw a spiral staircase, and no Bartowski.

“I just need to see what’s in his—he had a briefcase with him—” Chuck whispered into Casey’s earpiece. “Maybe I’ll flash on something—gah!”

There was a thump and a yelp and Casey was pounding up the last of the stairs, launching himself down the darkened corridor toward the only door with light behind it, banging it open and jumping inside, ready to shoot some Russians and Finns and one insubordinate pain-in-the-ass geek. “Nobody move!” he roared, as Koskinen’s hand shot out and the hiss of an aerosol sliced through the room. Petrov started coughing; Chuck, caught in the cross-fire, yelled and covered his face. Casey knee-capped Koskinen; the aerosol can rolled free. As the Finn groaned in anguish and reached into his jacket, Casey popped him in the arm. “Ahhh!” cried Koskinen; Casey flicked his gun over to Petrov, but he was out cold.

“Oh my god, Chuck,” gasped Walker from right behind him; then she’d pushed her way past and was bending over Bartowski, who lay unmoving. “Chuck!” 

Casey leaped forward and grabbed the aerosol can from the floor. “What is it?” he demanded, leaning down and thrusting it into the Finnish bastard’s face. “What’s in this?” If Bartowski was dead, if Bartowski was _dead,_ if Bartowski was dead – Casey could barely breathe through the heave and swell of his lungs. The assassin started to smile – and then began to howl, as Casey stomped furiously down on his bleeding knee. He shifted his full weight to his foot, and the howl turned to a scream. “It’s nothing!” cried Koskinen. “A—a sedative, nothing! Nothing more!” Casey looked to Walker, who was still examining Chuck.

“He might be telling the truth,” she said grimly. “His pulse seems steady, but the only way to know for sure is to get him back—”

“I’m telling the truth!” screamed the assassin, as Casey gripped his torn-up arm and wrenched it, viciously. “I swear it! I—I needed Petrov alive! I swear it!” 

Casey gave Koskinen a glare, feeling his eye twitch uncontrollably. “Fine. Then prove it.” Then he shoved the aerosol can into Koskinen’s face and pressed the nozzle. 

Ten seconds later, Casey rose and gave the assassin a sharp kick in the balls. Koskinen didn’t flinch. Casey holstered his gun.

“We have to get Chuck out of here,” Walker said, pushing her gun into her waistband. “Here’s the briefcase he saw.” She bent and retrieved it. “Here, you take it and get Chuck back to the van, make sure he’s okay.” She set the case near his feet, then drew out some zip ties from her little bag. “I’ll coordinate with backup.”

Casey grunted in agreement and hooked his hands under Chuck’s armpits to pull him upright and over his shoulder. He grabbed the briefcase and looked over at Walker, who was busy securing Koskinen. “You call me if anything happens,” he said gruffly, hoisting Chuck a little higher. Chuck was bony, but warm, and breathing normally, and Casey’s grip around his motionless waist tightened as he remembered watching Chuck go down. 

“Will do,” Walker said briskly. She was tying Petrov’s feet together now, and looked up with a small anxious smile. “Let me know when he’s clear.”

Casey nodded, then maneuvered himself and Chuck and the briefcase out the door.

*** 

Once inside the van with Chuck settled carefully on the floor, Casey dug the tiny aerosol can out of his pocket and located the toxins testing kit. He quickly snapped on the latex gloves, unwrapped the sterile pieces and fastened them into place on the testing unit. Then he injected the spray into the machine. "Come on, come on," he muttered impatiently as the unit glowed and flashed. He checked the surveillance feeds - nothing. No one had cared about the passed out drunk guy Casey hauled out of there - the party was still going strong. At the beep, Casey spun back to the testing unit, and grunted in relief. He raised his watch to his mouth. "Walker."

"Casey?" she responded immediately. "What was in the spray?" She was on edge, Casey could tell. Skirts. They could never keep their pointless feelings where they belonged - out of the field.

"Yeah, lover-boy here is fine, toxins test says it's a tranquilizer. Looks like Petrov was telling the truth after all."

Sarah had sighed out in audible relief, but when she spoke it was crisp and clear. "Good. I've been in touch with backup - they'll be here any minute. You head back with Chuck, see if he flashes on anything in the briefcase when he wakes up. I can handle things on this end."

"Roger that," Casey replied. He looked back at the testing screen. It'd take another couple of hours at least, probably more given Bartowski's delicate constitution, before he regained consciousness. Casey checked out the window, then deeming it secure, dragged Chuck into the front passenger seat and buckled him in. Then he got behind the wheel and started the van.

The courtyard appeared empty when he pulled into the parking lot at the complex in Echo Park. He moved to the surveillance station inside the van, pulled on the headset and punched in a few commands on the keyboard to tap into the feed from Chuck's apartment. All quiet on the boring front. He'd let Chuck sleep it off in his room and come back in an hour to grill him on the contents of the briefcase - photos of Petrov with various shady looking men, probably foreign spies. There were also schematics of long range missiles and submarines, all marked in Russian. It seemed like Petrov was selling his country out, big time. Wouldn't surprise Casey - only thing worse than a political appointee was a Soviet; put ‘em together and what do you get? The lowest form of life on earth.

Casey scanned the perimeter, then jumped out and got Chuck, hoisting him over his shoulder and carrying him through the empty courtyard, to Chuck's door. He fished the keys out his pocket - Chuck didn't know it but of course Casey had a copy made for himself - and went in. No need for the lights - it might draw attention and Casey knew the apartment like his own. He started moving across the room, his eyes slowly adjusting - when suddenly voices sounded from outside. Casey froze, listened - it was Devon and Ellie. He wouldn't make it down the hall in time with Chuck slumped over him like a side of beef. He turned back to the couch and dropped Chuck onto it with a whump, then threw himself on top. With a glare at Chuck's slackened features, he lunged in and started sucking hard on Chuck's neck, forcing the grimace off his face.

Turned out Sleeping Beauty was sensitive in the neck area because the next second Chuck had sprung to life under Casey. "Wha…ai-ya-yai!"

Before he could get another sound out Casey had clamped his arms and legs down around Chuck, preventing him from continuing to squirm, and was growling ferociously at him. "Shut _up_ and kiss me!"

Chuck's wide eyes rounded in confusion, indignation. "Come on!" Casey exhorted angrily. What was wrong with this kid that he couldn't follow a single, perfectly clear, order?!? It didn't even involve killing anything, except Casey's dignity. The front door was unlocked; it opened - Casey made a noise of frustration, then caught Chuck's head in his hands, forcing it still, and kissed him. Chuck protested in his throat and tried to push back - Casey parted his mouth and held Chuck down, deepening the kiss, pulling gently on Chuck's lip, then driving his jaw forward, kissing like it was the only thing that mattered, like it was the last moment in the world; kissing like he was in love.

And then - Chuck was doing it back, surging against him, wanting it.

And then - the lights were on and Ellie was shouting "Chuck!" as if she'd been shouting it awhile.

Casey released Chuck and raised his head. "Oh! Hey guys, sorry, didn't hear you come in." It came out a little hoarse; he cleared his throat and put on a slightly embarrassed smile. Pushing himself up, away from Chuck, he rose to his feet, resisting the urge to wipe at his mouth, forcing himself to breathe normally.

"Yeah, uh," came Chuck's none-too-steady voice from the cushions, "we thought you were out..."

"No worries guys." Devon flashed them one of his toothpaste commercial grins. "And definitely no need to apologize! This is your home too, Chuck; I _so_ am glad you're finally able to help us break in that couch. Ellie and I thought we'd be on our own on that one--"

"Ew, Devon!" interjected Ellie.

"--but I knew you had it in you! Awesome. And John," Devon went on, stepping forward to give Casey a firm slap to the bicep that had Casey flaring wide his eyes. "Looking sharp tonight my man - guess that's why you're sealing the deal, huh?" He gave Casey a wink.

Ellie pulled Devon back with a disgusted, "Okay stop. Devon, leave them alone." Which was a good thing, because Casey’s neck was starting to tighten.

"Hey, uh," Chuck began, and Casey felt a tug on his fist. "Hey John? Can we maybe go to your place, maybe? You know, to uh, to pick up where we left off here?" Casey looked sharply at him – thank god, Bartowski wasn't serious, he just wanted an exit.

Casey let his expression slide into something a little more wolfish. "Sure, sweetheart," he said, pitching his voice low. "Anything you want." He gave Chuck a leer - then saw Chuck flicking his eyes over his knees and giving miniscule shakes of his head. Great. So the twerp's legs weren't functional yet. Casey held in a sigh and suddenly pounced with a bedroom growl, scooping Chuck into his arms and flinging him bodily over his shoulder, causing Chuck to let out a girlish scream, Ellie to gasp, and Devon to clap once in admiration. "Caveman style, nice! I see what you like about him, Chuck!"

Chuck tittered weakly as Casey got the hell out of there. "Night kids!" Devon called after them. "Night!" Chuck replied, faintly, from near Casey's shoulderblade.

***

Casey kicked shut his apartment door and went over to his easy chair to dump Chuck down, but Chuck's torso must not have been all the way back either because the moment Casey let go, Chuck’s head flopped back and he slipped to his feet with his back almost at the seat. "Thanks buddy," he said to Casey's ceiling. Casey rolled his eyes, then leaned over, gripped Chuck around his chest, and dragged him to sit upright in the chair. "Comfy?" he asked sarcastically.

"Not bad; this thing’s actually nicer than it looks," Chuck replied, shifting himself slightly higher with his arms. "Would you mind maybe dimming the lights? It's just my head is killing me..." Casey let out a low growl but he went over to the switch and lowered the lighting. In his experience, it never paid to coddle the weaklings - it only made them softer - but if it helped Bartowski to flash, then Casey was duty-bound to do it.

"Ahhh, thank you thank you thank you,” Chuck sighed. “Now, what the heck happened back there?"

Casey went over to his desk, unlocked a drawer, and removed the contents of the briefcase they'd confiscated. "You got knocked out by a tranq spray that Koskinen had on him--"

"No, not that, I mean - back at my place." Chuck swallowed and his forehead wrinkled up. "How long - um, what’d I miss?"

Casey breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. His hand twitched - he thought about shoving the documents in front of Chuck's face and forcing him to flash. It would be faster. Anything would be faster than this torture. He stalked over to Bartowski and tilted his head down.

"Nothing. Happened." Casey bit the end off each word. "You were knocked out by tranq spray; I was taking you back to your room so you could sleep it off when your sister and her Ken doll showed up. Now, if we could focus on the mission--"

"Wait, but why were you, you know," Chuck's expression turned squirrelly. Casey snorted.

"Trying to suck the tongue out of your mouth?"

"Yup, that."

"What do you think it would've looked like to Ellie and Devon if they'd seen me inside your apartment, dragging your lifeless body down the hall, with all the lights off?" he sneered.

Chuck blinked. "Um, bad?" Casey grunted, intending to convey a _bravo, you've now grasped the obvious, now let's move on._ Chuck didn't get the hint.

"Yeah, okay, so I get that, but why were you - I mean, it felt like maybe, uh, maybe you were getting into it, not that that's a bad thing, necessarily, because you, ha ha, you are very good at what you do, Agent Casey!" He flashed a jokey point and grin at Casey, jabbing at the air with his finger, "But it's just I've been down this road before with Sarah and it only leads to heartbreak, namely, mine, so I think it's important for us to get it out in the open, get our real feelings out on the table before--"

"Stow it, Bartowski!" Casey snapped. "Do I look like Walker to you?"

Chuck looked at him with big brown eyes. "Noooo....?"

"Good. Glad we figured that out, dumbass. Now I'm out of patience so we're doing this my way." He whipped up the folder in his hand and flipped it open in front of Chuck's eyes. "Flash, Intersect."

Chuck reached out to Casey with a _No, wait_ \- and flashed.

***

"Excellent work, team," General Beckman said over her clasped hands. "We'll follow up on the Intel provided by the Intersect to persuade Petrov to defect; Koskinen will be extradited to the Russian Federation as a gesture of goodwill. On behalf of the country, thank you, and especially to you, Mr. Bartowski - I know field work was not in the initial job description but you've risen to the challenge. That's all." Beckman ended the call and the screen went to blue. Chuck looked back and murmured a resigned, "Anytime, General." He turned around slowly. "So, is there anything else you need me for right now or should I go back to my day job?"

Sarah glanced at him with a curious expression; Casey didn't bother to look over from whatever he was doing at his monitor. "We're all set here, you can get back to herding the nerds," he said.

"Great," mumbled Chuck. He was feeling pretty lousy after last night with Casey - it was no fun, experiencing one of the top five - maybe even top three - kisses in your life, then being belittled, ignored, and made to flash by the person you shared that incredible, life-changing moment with. But hey, why should he be surprised - this was Casey, vanquisher of all emotion. If Casey were a superhero, that would be his superpower. Or would that make him a supervillain? Hmm. Morgan would have something to say about it. Dammit, Morgan – he’d meant to tell Morgan about the whole Casey’s-now-my-boyfriend thing but he’d gotten interrupted and then Koskinen had waltzed into the BuyMore—

“Chuck?” Sarah asked. “Is everything okay?” He looked up; she was next to him, with an inquiring smile. She put her hand on his shoulder. Chuck smiled back, grateful to her. At least he had Sarah, who, even if she _also_ claimed to feel nothing despite acting like she did _all the time_ , was understanding and would at least listen when he wanted to talk. Usually. Chuck looked quickly at Casey. “Um. Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.” He gave her a reassuring smile, but it was too late – she’d caught him looking at Casey, and now she was looking at Casey too, with narrowed eyes. Uh-oh, Chuck thought.

“Casey?” Sarah called out, a tiny edge in her voice. “Do you have a minute?”

“Not really, Agent Walker,” Casey answered, his eyes still glued to his screen. “The general needs this report asap, remember?”

“It won’t take long,” Sarah said, and marched over to where Casey stood, pulling Chuck with her.

“Oh, no, it’s okay, Sarah, really, the man’s busy,” Chuck babbled, trying to re-direct her. “Let’s not – I don’t want to get him in trouble with the general, she doesn’t look like the forgiving type—”

“Casey, what did you do to Chuck last night?” Sarah demanded as she jerked Chuck to a stop beside her.

“You mean other than save his sorry ass?” Casey grunted, typing away.

“Yes.” Sarah wasn’t backing down an inch, Chuck knew it. Agh, he really blew it this time; they were going to have a significant, cathartic, milestone of a conversation and then Casey was going to kill him. He just knew it.

“I showed him the photos and specs we recovered,” Casey grunted. He clicked on the mouse, then continued typing.

Sarah waited. Casey typed. Chuck whimpered.

“What. Else.” Sarah demanded. Ho boy, Chuck thought, as he watched Casey’s jaw start to flex. Not good. Casey’s typing slowed. Really not good. _Clack,_ went a key on the keyboard. _Clack._

“Okay okay okay okay,” Chuck began. “Sarah, Sarah, this is what happened, kay? Look, it’s not a big deal, Casey did what he said, he brought me back to my apartment, he was going to let the tranquilizer work its way out of my system, but then Ellie and Devon came back, so he had to kiss me, you know as a cover, except it didn’t _feel_ like a cover, it felt _real,_ like really really _real_ and I may have gotten a little lost in the moment and just, you know, you know how I get, you remember that time—never mind, not relevant, so anyway, so anyway, I had just woken up and I was totally confused and then he grabs me and takes me back to his apartment, and then he rolled me onto his actually pretty comfortable big chair and then I asked him about what happened and then he shoved all these pictures in my face and I flashed like a million times and ended up with a hell of a headache afterwards and it’s partly because I can’t get over how it _felt_. With Casey. And that’s kind of freaking me out. Okay?” Chuck panted. His heart was racing beyond all healthy limits, he was sure of it. He could hardly believe he’d just said all that. In front of Sarah. And Casey. Oh god. This was more humiliating than Valentine’s Day in the ninth grade with Jessica Brennan. Oh god.

Sarah was staring at him, her mouth slightly open. Casey was too, but his mouth was firmly shut in a hard, sneering line.

“Guess you’re not as special as you think,” Casey finally said sarcastically, smirking sideways at Sarah. “Bartowski here’s just giving it away.”

“Chuck,” Sarah said softly, but Chuck suddenly, abruptly, found himself furious at Casey, at the way he trampled over everyone and everything in the name of following orders, at the way he pretended humanity wasn’t a thing, at the way he treated people who were obviously his friends like inferior life forms because they had feelings and showed them once in a while.

“Why do you do that?” Chuck shot back at Casey, who was standing now, his heavy arms crossed over his chest. Casey’s eyes narrowed; he cocked his head slightly. “Why do you always needle Sarah like that, then watch her reaction and laugh? That’s disrespectful, and it’s rude.” 

Casey’s eyebrows lifted up high; his mouth took on its familiar mocking smile. “Gonna teach me some manners?” he asked, taunting. “Maybe I was wrong, Walker – looks like he does play favorites.” His gaze slid coolly between Sarah and Chuck. He was still smiling, and it pissed Chuck off so badly he actually took a step forward so their chests almost touched. Casey’s lips widened into an almost-laugh; Sarah put a hand on Chuck’s arm.

“Chuck, I appreciate what you’re doing but really, this isn’t about me,” Sarah told him, squeezing his elbow.

Casey just stared at him, unblinkingly. “Should I put up my dukes now, or what?” he sneered at last.

Chuck wanted to punch Casey in the face. He really did. For about two seconds, he seriously considered it. But then common sense prevailed, and he realized that one, he would probably just end up breaking his hand, and two, he would definitely make Casey really, really angry, and then Sarah would be angry, and then the two people dedicated to keeping him alive would just be mad at him. And since he liked having his fingers intact and he liked being alive, most of the time, punching Casey in the face was no good. So instead, he just looked into Casey’s mocking eyes, and wished, in that instant, more than anything, even more than having a real relationship with Sarah or getting the Intersect out, that Casey would lay off him and leave his stupid girly feelings alone.

“Just forget it,” he muttered. His chin sagged to his chest; he lifted his head back up to tell Casey, “I’m just – I’m still having a hard time with all these covers, all right? I didn’t go to Langley or Quantico—”

“That’s the FBI, numbnuts.”

“—or whatever, so just – just cut me a little slack here, okay? Please?” Chuck tried to keep the desperation out of his voice because he didn’t think he could take one more snide comment from Casey right now, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded, because Sarah was squeezing his shoulder again and saying _Oh Chuck,_ but Chuck didn’t want to hear it. He’d had enough. “I’m going to finish up my shift, all right?” he said, talking over Sarah’s well-intentioned platitudes. Without waiting for permission, he turned and trudged over to the stairs, and walked up and out of Castle.

***

“Casey, you need to talk to him,” Walker said, sounding far too authoritative for Casey’s liking. “You know how he can spiral out of control.”

Casey grunted at his monitor. He was trying to continue with his report for General Beckman, but Walker’s henpecking was making it difficult. “You’re the girlfriend.” He flipped through a few pages of intel to verify a date. “Maybe a ladies’ night out will get his brain back in gear. Weren’t you just whining about not having enough Chuck time?” he snorted.

"I know it's not your cup of tea but whether you like it or not, you're his handler, and his cover boyfriend," Sarah said briskly. "This is your responsibility, and you know it."

Casey clenched his jaw and finished typing the sentence he was on. They both knew Bartowski was a complete idiot for Sarah - that he trusted her over anyone else in the U.S. government, Casey included. Chuck would listen to anything Sarah said. He'd lap it up and beg for more. She could snap her fingers and he'd screw his head on straight and come running back, even if it meant putting up with Casey. He felt his chest constrict in frustration. "Fine!" he snapped. "I'll take care of it." He took a deep, even breath, refocused his eyes on the screen and avoided Walker's gaze. "After I submit this report."

***

Later, Sarah would ask herself if she’d made the right decision, pushing Casey to smooth things out with Chuck, knowing that Chuck was in a vulnerable state and that Casey was, first and foremost, a spy. She would watch the video feed from Castle; she would question Casey's methods. She would bite back her response at Casey's snickered, "Like you said - I'm his handler. I handled him." She would say instead, "I hope you know what you're doing," and she would be a little afraid, at the grunt in response, that Casey knew exactly what he was doing.

***

Chuck lay on his bed in his Herder get-up, staring at the ceiling. He knew he was acting like a five year old by sulking in his room, feeling bad for himself, but it had been such a long, terrible week, and he had no one to talk to about the things weighing on his mind - aside from the Intersect, which was bad enough on its own. He had to get himself out of this bad juju, soon. So he'd invited Morgan over - faithful, trustworthy Morgan, whose face had lit up and who had agreed immediately with Morgan-levels of enthusiasm, despite the fact that Chuck had basically ignored him for days. Yeah, good old Morgan. Some things, thankfully, would never change.

A rustle at the window had him cracking a smile. “Hey buddy! Didja see the updated Spec Ops Ranks and Unlocks—what are _you_ doing here?” Chuck bolted up to sitting as the decidedly un-Morgan-like figure of Casey loomed into view. “I’m not talking to you right now,” Chuck told him, feeling his juju go from bad to worse.

“Who said anything about talking?” Casey said in his leering, sarcastic tone. In a single fluid movement he was inside and on Chuck’s bed, knees gripping high on Chuck’s thigh, palms cupped around Chuck’s neck. With a low growl, he nonchalantly tilted his jaw left, smirk firmly in place, and leaned in, slowly, slowly, his large heavy-lidded eyes coming closer, never blinking. Chuck knew he should move, duck out of the way; he heard a strangled _ho my god_ , then realized it was himself. He gulped; he gave up. Chuck squeezed his eyes shut tightly and scrunched up his face, drawing in his lips and pressing his mouth together hard. 

“Mmf,” he heard, as Casey’s mouth (shockingly supple, still, again, always a surprise) touched his, lightly. Wide fingertips swept up his neck, behind his earlobes, gently, but not so gently it tickled – with just the right pressure – like Casey’s lips, pressing softly to his. Chuck wasn’t used to it, the rough and the smooth of Casey’s face – and he liked it. He liked it a lot. At least, his body seemed to – it was easing into Casey’s hands, which were sliding from his hair down either side of his spine, broad and warm and so different from what he expected, based on his (few) prior experiences. He could feel himself arching as Casey kissed over the edge of his jaw and pulled up the back edge of Chuck’s undershirt. Chuck forced himself to keep his own hands dug into the covers. 

“This isn’t fair,” he said, pleased to hear it come out so steady – but then Casey’s hands (unbelievably smooth) stroked along his exposed ribcage and he twitched. “No?” Casey huffed quietly into his ear, taking the curved edge between his teeth. Chuck sucked in a sharp breath as Casey bit in, delicately – a part of Chuck’s mind, the tiny part floating far, far, above the fray, bowed down to the man’s skills. It figured – Casey was lethal in the bedroom, too. 

“No-oh,” Chuck replied, through the hitch in his chest. Somehow his hands, his traitorous hands, had unwound themselves from the bedspread and were groping their way across Casey’s enormous back (seriously, it was like traversing a continent) and down to his expansive, muscular ass. “Same root directory,” he breathed, as Casey dipped his head to Chuck’s neck. “Same source code.” His hands were crushing themselves to Casey’s buttocks, kneading like they were butt-crunching machines; his neck was craned all the way back for Casey’s campaigning tongue, despite the unyielding Ikea shelf murdering his topmost vertebrae. 

“Hmmm?” Casey hummed into Chuck’s skin. Casey’s teeth had found a hollow where Chuck’s neck joined his shoulder; Chuck wriggled and jerked down hard on Casey’s body as Casey sucked on his skin. Casey’s hips came down with force, bouncing the bed, and Chuck, into him. 

“You know the tricks,” gasped Chuck. His head was spinning – it felt vaguely like uploading another Intersect, but much, MUCH nicer. “Me being.” He clutched at Casey and shut his eyes, willing his pelvic region to stay still beneath Casey’s tantalizing bulk. “A man and all.”

At the rumble coming from within Casey’s chest, Chuck popped open one eye. Casey was huffing a laugh over him, his lips not quite grazing Chuck’s. Chuck opened the other. “Chuck,” Casey murmured, gravelly and warm. “You’re the girliest man I’ve ever met.” Chuck opened his mouth to protest; Casey lowered his head and took it with his own. 

Somehow, Chuck’s newly-bold hands managed to release the thick and springy muscles of Casey’s ass, and had crept up to Casey’s chest, to try to undo the buttons on Casey’s shirt. A grunt of amused approval had Chuck grinning into the kiss; his fingers fumbled faster, faster. Casey’s shirt was half-open and Chuck’s was all the way undone when a choked _ahem_ from the window had Chuck freezing in place.

_Morgan!_ Chuck thought; except he must’ve said it aloud – while still tongue-tied with Casey because the next thing he knew Casey was swearing like it was the apocalypse or the death of Rush Limbaugh and there was the unmistakeable tang of blood in his mouth. 

“Ho! Ho my god, oh my god!” Chuck reached for Casey’s jaw to see what the damage was and had his hands snatched up in Casey’s vise-like grip and slammed down to his own chest. Chuck fought to sit up higher – he’d slid down during the proceedings – but couldn’t shift Casey’s weight on top of him. “Are you okay? Oh my god Casey, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to – I was just – Morgan! Morgan!” Frantically, Chuck turned his head to the window. “It’s not what you think! I mean it _is_ what you think! Probably! But I can explain!”

Morgan was standing there, fingertips taped, bag over his shoulder, looking like a zombie. A forlorn, bearded zombie.

“You _bit_ me you little twerp!” Casey seethed. Chuck’s initial shock gave way to all-out panic as he swung his eyes back to Casey, who was touching his tongue with a finger and drawing it back bloodied. “I—I know, I know, and I’m sorry, Casey, I’m really really sorry, is it, is it really bad? I can get you a band-aid, no that’s silly, I mean—maybe disinfectant--wait, please, Casey--” he said as Casey hoisted himself from Chuck and slid off the bed, looking as menacing as the day Chuck first met him. 

“So this is what’s been going on,” said Morgan flatly. “How long have you known me, Chuck? _Me!_ Why didn’t you say something, man?”

“Urgh, Morgan, now’s not a good time,” Chuck pleaded, pushing himself up, looking down at his shirt, trying to fix up his buttons while going over to Casey, who was halfway out the bedroom door. “Just – hang tight, kay buddy, I’ll be right back, promise, don’t move.” He rushed out into the hallway after Casey—

\--and nearly slammed into him, face first, two feet later. 

“Whoa, Casey Casey Casey, listen,” he pattered. “Please forgive me, please please please, that was an accident, a complete and total accident, it’s par for the course, really, because like I always say, it’s not an official Chuck Bartowski date if the uh,” he coughed and sped up, “normally I’d say woman but in your case I’m gonna go with big damn American hero—didn't leave injured in some way.” He looked hopefully into Casey’s scowling pissed-off face. “Please don’t hurt me?” After a second, he cringed, averting his face for the blow.

“Stop begging, it’s pathetic,” Casey growled. Chuck straightened, noticed a fresh streak of red on Casey’s tongue as he spoke. “Yikes, it’s still bleeding,” he murmured, peering closer.

Casey reared his head back. “Stay away from me, Bartowski,” he raised a blocking hand. Chuck smiled, relieved that Casey was okay, then remembered how it had been not five minutes ago – Casey’s hands on him, pulling him close. Of course it was all an act. Casey must’ve known that Morgan would be there. It had been for the cover. Obviously. When am I going to learn already, Chuck berated himself. 

“Hey,” Casey grunted. Chuck broke out of his grim reverie. “You gonna leave your moron friend hanging? I think some people would call that disrespectful, and rude.” 

Chuck looked back at Casey and snorted. “Yeah, well, you gonna teach me some manners?”

All at once Casey was flush against him, nose, chest, knees. “I might,” he growled with that curl to his lip. Chuck swallowed as Casey growled, a low, purring sound. “Or maybe I’ve got something better in mind.” His intense eyes flicked once, twice, across Chuck’s face, then he strode away, snickering.

Chuck stood a second longer, shut tight his eyes, then opened them. Casey was definitely going to kill him, one way or another. He sighed out a shaky breath, then went back to his bedroom, to talk to Morgan.


End file.
